Harry Potter And An Interesting User Interface
by fireskullkills
Summary: Harry being able to slightly alter other people's emotions? Fun. Imma try to write round characters, so no bashing. M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**/Author's note:**

 **/It gets better later on; I might come back to rewrite the beginning.**

 **Welcome, Player!**

 **Your identity has been automatically set to: Harry Potter**

An eight year old boy stared at this icon in surprize and confusion, clearly dumbfounded by such a spontaneous pop-up. There he was, sitting in his cupboard, when, suddenly, that message sprung up and startled the living daylights out of him.

 **Race: Human**

 **Class: Wizard**

 **Speciality: ?**

The boy, apparently named Harry Potter, was now entirely lost. The boy was a hundred percent sure that he was a human, but a wizard? His uncle always taught him that magic, sorcery, and other hocus-pocus was freakish and did not was just about to dismiss the window as a hallucination when he was struck with wonder. He wondered "what if?" What if magic was real? What if he truly was a wizard?

-"Am I?"- The words escaping his mouth were barely a whisper, but the closed space of the cupboard made these words seemingly echo throughout his small little prison. The uncertainty of the question left him oddly at peace; somehow, he knew that if he was, in fact, a wizard, he would soon know.

With such a comforting mindest, Harry drifted off to sleep; only to smash his forehead on the cupboard ceiling a couple moments later, as a loud yell reverberated through the house.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

As Harry opened the door of his cupboard he was greeted with a sight of a thin and lanky woman. The main attribute of this woman was, as Harry noted for himself, her long and overextended neck, perfect for spying on neighbours. Her name was Petunia, Harry's aunt. It was surprising for such a thin and skinny woman like her to have such an explosive temper and a toxic personality.

"Are you awake yet?"

"Nearly…" - groaned out Harry, holding his hurt forehead in mild discomfort.

"You better be up! It is my Duddikin's birthday, and I want everything to be perfect!"- Strictly exclaimed Petunia, before looking at the boy and raising her voice - "Why are you still in the cupboard? I want eggs and bacon for breakfast, so get on it!"

Harry groaned. He knew that on the birthday of his cousin the family would go somewhere to have fun, and leave him with the most annoying and infuriating cat lady ever, Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg truly loved her cats, and would, if not make him play with her cats, then would make Harry drink tea while looking over the thousands of pictures of her cats that's she so dearly loved.

-"GET THE BLOODY BREAKFAST DONE, YOU IMBECILE!" - This loud tell made Harry jump in his cupboard and smash his forehead against the low ceiling once again and yelp in pain.

Harry Potter came out of the cupboard and smashed the door into its frame as if to punish the cupboard for the pain that it caused. The day didn't start well in the slightest. Slightly grumpy, he dragged himself to the kitchen to fulfill the order he was given. This has become the routine for the young boy; wake up, get yelled at, cook breakfast and finish his chores; but just because it was routine, that didn't mean that he liked it in any way. He was envious; envious of his cousin. Cousin that got birthdays, didn't have to do chores and was spoiled. But the little boy could do nothing but obey.

The breakfast was done and the family got together to enjoy the food that Harry had made. Albeit eight, Harry was really experienced in the delicate craft of foods due to being forced to cook most of the time. Aunt Petunia majorly disliked cooking and usually made Harry cook any and all holiday meals as soon as he was able to pick up a frying pan. But Harry was alright with cooking; it gave him ample time to himself, and allowed him to wallow in "what if?'s" What if he was a wizard? What if he didn't have to live there anymore? What if the ceiling of the cupboard was just an inch higher? Albeit he could daydream, he didn't have definite answers for any of those questions.

Harry was rudely interrupted from his daydream by his cousin, who started crying over one of the presents being a little too small for his liking.

-"We will get you a new one when we go to the city today, alright, Duddikin?" While aunt Petunia was fussing over her precious child, her land whale of a husband was smugly grinning, as if proud of his child. This man was a true businessman, believing that his child was growing up with the same determination to squeeze out anything he ever wanted out of any situation, much like himself. Although a businessman, he included emotion in many of his real life decisions, such as his major dislike of a boy named Harry Potter who was dropped of to their house 7 years earlier. So, obviously, as soon as he remembered that Harry was in the same room as him, his face darkened, and a frown marred his face.

-"Petunia! What are we going to do about the boy? We are going to the city, and I do NOT want to take the freak with us. Should we leave him with Mrs. Figg?"

Oh, how he didn't want to go! Mrs. Figg was truly a place where he did not want to be.  
As his aunt was about to confirm his uncle's decision and send him to Mrs. Figg, their eyes met. Harry's emerald green eyes were met with a piercing, hatred-filled gaze; these eyes bore into Harry's, the hatred burning in her eyes... then, suddenly, they disappeared. Her EYES were gone. Instead, her eye sockets were filled with two murky crystal unseeing balls... But Harry didn't have enough time to be surprised before those balls were replaced with her slightly more lively eyes again. Those eyes no longer held such burning contempt and hatred, rather, some of it was replaced with doubt and confusion.  
"I don't think we should send Harry to Mrs. Figg… just let him stay at the house..."


	2. Chapter 2

With a house to himself and the whole day to spare, Harry decided to make the most of it. These kinds of days, when he had the house all to himself, were rare, if not a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Harry. He could do anything! Go anywhere! And he knew exactly where to start. As Harry made his way to the most sacred place in the house, the fridge, he thought to himself of the many different ways that he could occupy himself...

The first, and rather immediate thought was to explore the house. Even though Harry grew up in this house, he rarely went anywhere except the kitchen and his own cupboard. To be completely honest, Harry had only one room that he wanted to "explore". Dudley's. A room filled with presents and many different ways to entertain oneself.

This room completely contrasted his own cupboard; it was massive and really open; and no spiders to be seen. The floor of this room was housing all the presents that Dudley got for his birthday. Among these many different presents given to his fat cousin was something that caught Harry's eye: a small airsoft pistol, as it said on the box a "1911", to which Harry simply wondered at why somebody decided to get Dudley such an old pistol. Deciding that it was useless to Dudley, Harry took the pistol and the ammo before running down the stairs and hiding it under his pillow. Such a cool, albeit old thing simply couldn't go to waste!

Harry continued his hunt for intriguing things in his cousin's room. No other presents caught his eye as cool or interesting, so he moved on to looking over the room. To his surprise, the room was rather clean, supposedly due to aunt Petunia cleaning the whole place before Dudley's birthday. The only thing that he found was a bunch of tissues under Dudley's bed; maybe he was sick or something. Next to the pile of tissues he found a stack of magazines; magazines that read "Genesis," and "Playboy" on the covers, and boasted many interviews with stars from many different shows. But in all his knowledge, Harry truly did not understand the meaning of the word "pornographic", which made him slightly disappointed. As Harry flipped throughout the magazine, he thought to himself- "wow, thaws girls must be really poor… They can't even afford clothes…"

The whole magazine was filled with half naked ladies; and if it was all that this magazine had, then it was pretty damn boring. He flipped through some pages, finding some really boring interviews with some of the ladies. After a couple more minutes of trying to read the interviews he gave up and attempted to search for something more entertaining in the magazine.

After a couple minutes of flipping pages, he stopped on one that seemed interesting. This page had a picture of a lady with a collar on her, which prompted a surprise from Harry. A collar on somebody? Isn't that what pets wear? It intrigued him to no end. The page read - "would you like somebody to see you as more of a dominant? If you are lucky, they might even be your slave~ Say these words while concentrating on owning someone-" _Vires; Perpetua Servitus_ ""

Thats ridiculous, Harry thought. No way can that ever be real. Magic does not exist. He was taught that from a very young age. So he did exactly what the magazine suggested he do, simply to prove it wrong.

-" _Vires; Perpetua Servitus_ "

As soon as he uttered these words, he blacked out.

-Truly, a piece of dark magic. A piece that was supposed to only be accessed by muggles in order to get a slight advantage in their sex life due to having almost no magical potential. However, now that this boy had found it, a future wizard with a large magic reserve, the ritual was able to act fully. This is potentially rather dangerous.

-Will he die due to such a high powered spell having no target?

-No, I do not think so. However, if he does want to live, he will need to seek professional help immediately. Many magical races would do wonders in helping him.

-Goblins?

, I do not wish for the child to simply perish not knowing what caused his demise. I will give him a magical mark that should constantly nag at him to visit the goblins.

A single figure stepped out from the shadows and neared the limp body of Harry Potter. It kneeled before Harry, whispering something incomprehensible. It's arm, outstretched to touch the boy glowed bright scarlet for a moment before the figure stood up and disappeared into the day.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke to find himself in the same spot that he fainted on. In fact, the magazine that he was reading beforehand still ley in the same spot that he left it in - right in from of him. Harry quickly got up and closed the magazine without giving it a second glance. To him, the previous experience was quite surreal; he didn't expect anything to happen, especially not him fainting for some reason. Those strange words… they must have meant something, right? But alas, tha magazine did not provide any further explanations on the topic, and Harry was forced to retire the reading.

Harry felt a strange tingle on his neck, but he paid it no mind. He stood up and took one last look around the room. Still slightly confused over what had transpired, he left the room and gently closed the door.

Once outside, Harry exhaled in relief. And yet, something was could feel it. Something was off. However, before Harry could figure anything out, keys were inserted into the front door. Harry immediately paled; has he been asleep for that long? As the lock clicked, Harry ran down the stairs as fast as he could, as he could not, by any means, be seen anywhere on the second floor. The door burst wide open and a large mass of body flooded the hallway. Of course, this singular mass was none other than his uncle Vernon, who, being in good spirits, simply looked at Harry and blurted out:

-"Boy! I want supper ready as quickly as possible! Dudley is hungry!"

-"Yes uncle Vernon!" Harry yelled excitedly. He was rather happy that his uncle didn't see him coming down the stairs, as it could have been really bad… like that one time his aunt Petunia hated the way his hair looked, so she shaved it off completely. The very next day, the hair was back, and his aunt was really mad; she even locked Harry for a week in the cupboard with nothing to do.

As Harry hurried into the kitchen, another great landwale, accompanied by the ever lanky Petunia, came in through the door. Immediately after coming in, before even taking off his jacket, he yelled out:

-"Cousin! We went to the zoooo!" Dudley laughed. Harry said nothing; yet, the way Dudley stretched the last "o", mocking him, really got under his skin.

\- "There were so many cool animals, like birds, and stuff! And you missed it, cousin~!" Harry was fuming on the inside. This little twat had the gall , the GAL, to be such a nuisance! He grew angrier and angrier with each coming second, hating being in such a powerless situation, hating being mocked at.

As Harry was about to explode, Dudley noticed something on Harry's neck. It was the tattoo that Harry was still oblivious to. Before Harry was able to talk some sense into the whale, Dudley let out a yell-

-"Muuum! Harry got a tattoo while we were gone!"

"What?! Freak! What have you done when we left you alone for a few hours?!"-The shrieking voice of Petunia grew louder and louder as she ran through the hallway and towards the kitchen.

-"You are definitely in trouble, cousin… "-Harry could see the excitement in Dudley's eyes..

The door suddenly smashed open, revealing an incredibly angry petunia, and her large husband behind her.

"What the hell is that tattoo, and where did you get this monstrocity?!"

As Petunia and uncle Vernon burst into the door, Harry was in a stupor; he genuinely had no idea what they were talking about.

"FREAK! YOU ARE GOING INTO THE CUPBOARD FOR A WEEK! DO NOT EXPECT ANY FOOD WHILE YOU ARE THERE!"- Vernon was genuinely livid. They left this freak in their house for a few hours, and he managed to do some of his freakishness? -"IF WE FIND ANY DAMAGE DONE TO THE HOUSE, I WILL BEAT YOU TO THE INCH OF YOUR VERY LIFE, BOY!"

As Harry got hooked by his ear and dragged away, he managed to catch a glimpse of his neck which contained the tattoo. This tattoo sat on his neck like an antelope sensing danger; it pulsated, seemingly jumping up and down. It was a picture of a black fire; this fire shone a bright, yet dull, scarlet, showing off its urgency and energy.

He was awoken from his daydreaming when the door slammed shut in front of him, before a voice exclaimed:

-"You have a week to think over your actions, boy; I better not find any of your freakishness after this, or I will have to go to much more drastic measures, boy."

Harry's eyes grew to the size of medium mention of more "drastic" measures terrified him.

The night slowly creeped into the house, putting a generally noisy house to rest. The night was heavy; in the tight space of the cupboard Harry slowly grew scared. The eight year old boy thought he heard a noise… another one… that one sounded like a set of nails accidentally scratching a wall within the house… that sound, the other one, felt like a shadow enveloping the boy in its chilly and silent embrace. The little boy could not stomach the tight space in which he was left to rot in. The boy wanted out. He needed to get out. He put some weight on the door. He couldn't open it. The Lock. The Lock. If only the goddamn Lock was open! Harry was getting more and more desperate.

The door opened. Harry had no idea of what opened it, but he bolted out, grabbing the toy gun in a bout of childish horror and rushing the hell out of the cupboard. Harry closed the lock behind him, and opened the front door.

He took a breath. The air of the night felt strangely free and refreshing. Albeit Harry had never been out in the real world, he knew exactly where he wanted to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was free… A toy gun in his pocket served as a token that satisfies his supersticion; it gave Harry reassurance. His mission was simple - Harry needed to get there. Where? There. He had no idea where he wanted to go. No. Where he NEEDED to go. His arm unconsciously moved up and rubbed the tattoo; it pulsated; it seemed as if it wanted its owner to go somewhere: somewhere specific. Harry took his first step into the night. Then another. Then another. He ran. Where? He had no idea. He ran for a long time. Where? He had no idea. He felt like he ran forever- his legs never growing tired and never running out of breath - he just ran.

When he came to his senses, he was in a street - a street that looked like it would have been incredibly busy at daytime. He passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas - but among this busy street - only one building truly called out to him: a tiny, grubby-looking pub. The people that were up during such an hour hurried by and didn't even glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the pub at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he could see it. He could see it, and he knew - maybe by coincidence, maybe by intuition, maybe because of his tattoo- that this was where he needed to be. The building, apparently named the "Leaky Cauldron" judging by a dirty and beat up sign hanging from a small metal bar above the entrance, was a grimy place jammed in between two big stores. This place had no windows and Harry genuinely wandered on how the residents managed to stay in such a cramped place. However, Harry had no choice. Harry knew that the only way to get anywhere from where he was, he HAD to go through this building.

The door of the establishment was old - any paint that there once was had almost completely crumbled. The door had a smell - a rather distinct one to say the least - it smelled bitter, and yet fresh. This door, it seemed was a gate. A gate to something new. A gate to new experiences: some good, some bad, but new experiences nonetheless.

He took a breath, fixed his posture, and entered the building.

Harry was immediately hit with a myriad of sensations. The place was dark and shabby, yet charming in its own way. The place had a somewhat wet, mossy - yet fresh - smell to it. This was a pub, or a tavern, depending on what you want to call it, but it was rather quiet in the early hours of the morning. There sat some old men, smoking their pipes and slowly drifting into peaceful slumber; a woman slumped on the table, sitting there, whispering things only she herself could hear or understand. The bartender stood at a table, obviously tired, waiting for the old men to finally finish their drinks and leave. Harry didn't want to catch his eye, mainly due to having to explain himself. Unfortunately, the tired eye of the bartender wondered curiously to the opening door and noticed the little boy.

-"Hey kid! Come 'ere! What are you doing here at such a late hour?"

What the hell was he supposed to say?

 **Welcome, Player!**

 **You have gained access to a feature of this assistive interface. This interface will grant you access over a select human's emotions toward the user (Note: this effect will not work against higher level wizards or witches)**

What? Harry blinked. Then blinked again. Wizards? Witches?

-"Ahem. Kid? What are you doing here?" - further pressed the bartender.

 **There are a couple of base emotions that you can manipulate:**

 **Permanent manipulation: The User is able to PERMANENTLY change, albeit insignificantly, the emotional status of the victim toward the user.(This effect only works on those emotions that are felt towards The User)**

 **Temporary manipulation: The User is able to TEMPORARILY send a wave of a certain emotion towards the victim.(This effect works on most emotions)**

 **I will now launch a small tutorial sequence on the bartender. Concentrate on an emotion that you want to send his way, and the tired man won't be able to shrug it off.**

Harry was lost. He knew that he had to do something, as some of the patrons were already looking over their shoulders at him, and he grew increasingly less comfortable.

-"Kid?" The bartender asked for the final time.

Harry took a breath, concentrated, and imagined a wave hitting the bartender. This wave was a calm and mellow wave of compassion and understanding - a warm stream of emotion hitting the bartender and carrying him and his tired brain's reasoning far away from this grimy pub. Harry knew that now was his chance to convince the bartender to leave him alone.

-"My… My parents are here… "- Harry managed to stammer out despite his nervousness.

-"In the bar?" - Questioned the bartender.

-"No…"

-"Oh, I know! They must be behind the border and you can't open it without a wand. You poor thing! Unfortunately I can not leave my post for too long, but I will walk you through the barrier. - "Follow me, kid."

The bartender led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. He was counted bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... two across," he muttered. "Stand back, kiddo." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his wand. The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing a massive archway, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

-"Welcome," said the bartender, "to the Diagon Alley"

Harry smiled and thanked the bartender. He didn't pay any attention to the myriad of shops around him, as he sprinted along the narrow street to his unknown destination.


	5. Chapter 5

/Author's Note: Hey amigos! How are you doing? I am fine, thank you! A new chapter is out, so have fun. Reviews are appreciated and ideas welcome.

/enjoy.

Harry ran along the crooked and twisted street, sprinting past all the different shops - the Apothecary, the cauldron shops, Ollivander's wand shop- the shops that would normally pique his interest and cause Harry to grow incredibly confused and curious, were completely disregarded in the favour of his quest.

Harry ran until he saw it; the building that he was looking for. This structure was a snowy white, reflecting the nightly moonlight and appearing almost ethereal in the dead of night. This building towered over all the others, capturing Harry's attention immediately. Although the building had a domineering look and feel over the entire alley, the few people present in the late hours of the night forcefully looked away from it, as though fearing or not wanting to associate themselves to the building itself or something inside of it.

Harry, however, knew that this was the building he was looking for. As he climbed the white stone steps to the building, he noticed something. Someone, to be more accurate. There stood, in a greeters costume, a creature. This creature stared forward with its small and insidious eyes, looking forward in a bored manner. This creature intrigued Harry, and gave the building in front of him a kind of a mysterious charm, which drew him further inside the building.

Harry came into the hall as the great doors closed behind him. The hall was brightly lit, as there were plenty of chandeliers bouncing candlelight around the solid gold walls of the giant room. An engraving into one of the solid gold walls read - "Gringotts Bank," - and Harry immediately grew confused as to why he was here, as he knew nothing about finances or banking. As Harry turned around and was about to trot out of the bank, one of the bank tellers spotted him.

"I do believe that due to the absence of any other persons in the bank, you are next in line, human."

Harry slowly turned around and unconfidently trotted over to the bank teller. In his crawl of a walk, Harry took a good look at the teller: this creature was obviously of the same race as the one right outside the bank, but the differences were rather stark: this creature in front of him dressed in fine formal clothing, and looked genuinely clean and kept, a sure sign of wealth and prosperity of said creature. The nose of this one was similarly crooked as the nose of the one next to the entrance, and Harry assumed that this was a trait that all of the members of this race shared. Harry was interrupted from his observations by a grim and strict voice.

-"Name?"

Harry nervously blurted out his name, and the goblin started. He stared, and stared, and stared. His gaze was a chilling one, to say the least. It was one that went though you, seeing right through you completely.

-"Do you have your key?"

-"What key? No…"

-"Follow me, Mr. Potter. We have to verify your identity." The goblin was calm and somewhat bored, maybe a tad bit agitated. To Harry it felt as if this wasn't the first time someone came in and told him that their name was Harry Potter. Harry obediently followed, as he suspected that refusing could yield unfavorable conditions for himself.

The creature led him away from the golden room and into a labyrinth of much smaller arched pathways laid in marble. This pathway contained manly inlaid doors, and led to one larger than the rest. Harry assumed that that had to be the place for the owner of the bank. The creature that led Harry to this point faltered before knocking on the door.

*knock*

*knock*

*knock*

… Silence…

The creature grew a lot more nervous. One could see the sweat slowly appearing on its forehead. One had to imagine that the thing behind the door was incredibly terrifying to warrant such a response from this creature. The creature raised its hand again to knock.

-"What do you need?" A firm voice came from within, "Do not waste my time."

The creature next to Harry exhaled in relief and answered steadily:

-"There is a person that claims to be Harry Potter, your majesty."

This phrase was followed by a long silence. The sheer lack of noise following that statement was overwhelming. What were they going to do to him? Was he somehow important to these creatures? No, he thought, that would be ridiculous. He hadn't done anything, right?

"Allow him in and leave."

The creature turned to Harry with a large grin. This grin showed off the rows of predatory and pointy teeth in its mouth. The creature leaned in to Harry and whispered:

-"I hope that you are, in reality, Harry Potter. If you aren't, you will not walk out of here alive, human." - The creature smiled again before mouthing: " Good luuck~"

Harry was scared. His knees slightly trembled. He was Harry, he knew that; however, the room scared the 8 year old boy. He couldn't fathom who was inside.

"Human." The voice was grim and irritated. "Do not waste my time."

Harry compiled, lightly pushing the heavy walnut door. To his surprise, the doors silently compiled and assisted him in opening.

The room was dark, and any sunlight radiating from the couple of candles floating in the air was absorbed by the walls finished in walnut wood. Harry could tell that even though the walls weren't as expensive as the gold in the main hall, this walnut was a show of style and class of the person residing in these quarters. The floor was layered in lots of dark green scales, with a strip of a red carpet extending from the door to the desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk, in a supposedly expensive chair, sat a creature. This creature was, as far as Harry could tell, the same as the two of the ones that he met earlier.

-"Greetings, human. I will not regard you as a Potter until you have proven your identity. Understood?"

Harry nodded.

The creature sat there calmly, staring at Harry. This was an observing and a calculating one, as if he was not sure what to say.

-"Are here alone?"

Harry nodded once again, and the creature plunged into a silence before continuing.

-"Do you know how the ritual works?" The creature questioned.

-"What's a ritual?" Harry curiously questioned.

The creature stared back in confusion and bewilderment, but shrugged it off.

-"Put your finger right here. You will feel a small prick, as we need to collect some blood to identify you. Do not worry, the wound will instantly heal itself back up."

Harry complied. His shaky hand reached out and touched the vase. It was true, he did feel a small prick, and his eyes started to well up with tears. However, before any could escape, the creature started messing with the blood collector before coming back up and announcing:

-"You are, in fact, Harry Potter."

Harry released the breath he didn't know he held. Harry was relieved from the mystery of what would have happened if the results were not in his favor.

-"Why are you here, Mr. Potter, the Keeper of Peace?"

-"The Keeper of Peace? What have I done to receive that title?"

-"Do you not know the story? You and your family's sacrifice helped us maintain the status of neutrality during the war eight years ago."

-"A sacrifice in war? Uncle Vernon would never even try …" Harry didn't get to finish the sentence as the creature interrupted him.

-"Your immediate family, Mr. Potter."

-"My mom and dad? I thought they died in a car crash…" Blurted out Harry.

-"Don't speak nonsense. You have no idea what happened, do you?" Tiredly spoke the creature.

Harry slowly and cautiously shook his head.

-"Alright," it exhaled, "I won't go into too much detail, but the gist of it all is that around eight to nine years ago, the magical Britain shook. There was an all-out war between a wizard and the headmaster of a magical school, Albus Dumbledore, and a self proclaimed dark lord Voldemort. These two, along with a sizable amount of men fought each other throughout magical Britain. Understanding thus far?"

Harry, dumbfounded and confused, knew not to ask about magic just yet, and to hear out the entire story; he silently and slowly nodded.

-"Good. As I was saying, the war touched everyone. In the later stages of the war, the war was reaching Gringotts. This is where you and your family came in. Your mother, I'm guessing, completed a dark ritual in order to protect you. When Voldemort came along to kill you and your family, the spell he cast on you bounced back and destroyed him instead. You have been named The Keeper of Peace because you came into play just as he was about to attack us and drag us into their war. Any questions?"

-"Yes," Harry nodded, "Magic is real?"

The creature looked incredibly incredulous. -"Paron?"

-"Magic is real?" - Repeated Harry.

-"How the hell did you get here alone, if you don't know about magic or your heritage?!"

-"I don't know… The bartender let me in."

-"How did you get into leaky cauldron in the first place?"

-"This tattoo…" Harry couldn't finish his sentence, as he fainted and fell off his chair.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry could faintly hear voices… they sounded incredibly distant and barely audible. However, Harry managed to pick up some words.

\- "The spell! It needs a partner! He can't survive for too long without one… I am surprised that he is still alive…"

-"Then find him one! I will not lose a valuable client!" This was a familiar voice; a voice that Harry had heard earlier in the office of this bank.

-"We can't use witches…" A frantic voice exclaimed. "The ministry would be all over our asses!"

-"Find him some random humanoid then! She needs to be powerful enough not to feel the blowback ... We can not risk being found out, Griphook."

-"Yes, your majesty. I believe that a veela would be perfect..."

The voices grew quieter and a lot more distant until Harry once again plunged into the void of unconsciousness.

Harry was floating in absolute darkness. There was no sound. No feeling. No sense of time. Harry drifted along the nothing; although he slowly moved, he felt as if he was completely stationary. Suddenly, he felt a tug from within. This tug felt as if it was coming directly from inside of his stomach.

 **Your magic is receiving outside influence;**

 **Do not be alarmed, as this influence might save your life.**

There it was; this text again. The text was written on a two dimensional blue rectangle that appeared out of nowhere, as always. Harry had no idea what the text meant, but he decided to dismiss it as there was nothing he could have done at the moment. Immediately after he thought that, another text appeared before him:

 **Your spell,** _ **Vires; Perpetua Servitus**_ _ **,**_ **has been given a partner.**

 **You will now have a permanent connection with them. With this connection, you will always have access and be able to influence their emotions towards you, exercising** **Permanent manipulation.**

 **Here, attempt it by raising respect.**

Respect? Why respect, of all things, wondered Harry.

 **Why not?**

Fair point, Harry thought.

-"What do I need to do?"

 **Instead of imagining a wave , imagine that emotion as an invisible string that reaches from your core to theirs. You should be able to feel your partner instinctually.**

Harry closed the text box and stared into nothingness, concentrating on himself. At first, he felt absolutely nothing; the emptiness felt overwhelming. Then, as he began to feel desperate, he felt it. The core. The core was lively. It felt like a ball of yarn with many strings flowing around it, never finding a resting place and constantly floating around his body. He grabbed one at random, and felt it. This string had energy. The amount of potential energy in one was immense. Although it felt like it was a lot, Harry knew that in reality this potential energy would only transfer into so much kinetic, considering that his conductors for it were untrained. His body wasn't used to being able to transfer this energy. He grabbed the string and attempted to find his partner. At first, the search proved fruitless. Harry attempted to feel out a figure in the nothing, but he couldn't. Then, he imagined a feeling. He imagined another core, another source of energy. Then, he felt it. He felt another ball of stringy power that he could reach his strings to. He knew to approach with caution, and to not attempt to meddle with the emotions much. He carefully picked up his string and extended it to the other core. The string got closer. Closer. Closer. As the string touched the ball, Harry concentrated. He attempted to send a small package of respect over the makeshift delivery line. There. It was sent. However, as soon as it reached the other ball, Harry immediately realized why this manipulation was so not allowed in large amounts: Harry felt his power drain as if it was pouring out of a faucet. The energy loss left him panting and hyperventilating. Before he was able to recover his breath, he awoke with a start.

He awoke in a large room filled with plenty of different vials and containers, drawers and closets, books and scrolls. This was obviously something akin to a lab, but why was he here? Unknowingly, he asked that question aloud.

-"You fainted." Suddenly responded a voice from behind. "I don't know how you got yourself into your situation, but you did, and I will not pry. You told me that you are unfamiliar with magic, correct?"

Harry simply nodded and waited for a response.

-"I neither have the time to teach you, nor do I want to. However, I will hire one of my goblins in order to do so. Of course, the money for your education will be taken from your account, but you need not to worry, as you have plenty, and we will not rob you. Deal?"

-"Yes!" Excitedly exclaimed Harry.

-"Good. He will teach you the history, basics, and some rune work, as beginner rune work isn't dependent on the magic core of the user."Explained the goblin. "Griphook!"

-"Yes, your majesty?" a goblin, apparently named Griphook, poked his small head through the door.

-"I have a student for you, Griphook."

The goblin's face melted into a feral smile.

-"Thank you, your majesty."


	7. Chapter 7

It has been quite some time since Harry's entrance into the magical bank named "Gringotts." To Harry, the bank became a new refuge. This was his home, as the goblins generously, (for a generous sum of money, that is), offered him a place to stay and an excellent teacher. Harry learned plenty of wizarding history through the bitter goblin's eyes. However, Harry didn't take in the biases of the goblin race simply because he dozed off throughout almost all the lectures. Magical theory, on the other hand, was quite important to Harry, seeing as he was genuinely excited about doing magic. Although Harry knew that the theory was important, he couldn't wait to jump into the practice and execution of magic. Thankfully, he was able to find an outlet for magic practice in runes. The language of runes and their different combinations produced plenty of results, some flashy, some practical; satisfying his need for seeing and practicing actual magic. Harry knew that he wanted to do with his knowledge in runes currently; he would attempt and master as many runes as possible, and then he would engrave them into his spring-loaded airsoft gun that he brought with himself. Thus far, he did some experimentation and was able to make the spring a lot less elastic, but made the slide a lot easier to cock. The gun now packed quite the punch, although the pellets that the gun propelled failed to do any damage, as they all were simply small plastic balls.

-"Mr. Potter!" a voice called out. "Please come to my office."

This voice belonged to the goblin whom Harry met in his first trip to Gringotts. This goblin was the king of the goblin race, at least in the magical Britain, and held the position of the president of this bank.

-"Yes?" Harry poked his head into the goblin's office.

-"Come in and sit down. There is something important that we need to talk about." Tiredly spoke the goblin.

-"Yes?" Repeated Harry.

-"There is an old contract that was written by your ancestors in order to preserve their, and by extension, your line from dying out. However, recently, this contract had been sealed, and nobody is allowed to see it unless it is unsealed." Whether the goblin was lying about his ability to disclose the contents of this contract was impossible to tell, but it sure peaked Harry's interest.

-"Why can't you unseal it then?" curiously asked the boy. "I kinda want to know what it says…"

-"I can not unseal it without permission of an heir or head of the house. However, if the requirements for it are met, the contract will be enacted." Warned the goblin.

-"It can't hurt right? If my ancestors wrote it, and they couldn't mean me any harm, right?" Impatiently stated Harry. "Open it, please."

-"You might rue your impatient curiosity afterwards. "

The goblin untied the ribbon on the scroll, unrolling it. The parchment was yellowish, presumably from the age of the paper. It read:

 **Betrothal contract**

 **A descendant of one of these two houses - The Ancient and Noble House of Potter, as well as The Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass - upon being orphaned at a young age, and with no planned life partner or a way to extend the family line, will be married to the oldest viable partner of the other house. The heir will be expected to marry on the first open opportunity upon reaching magical maturity. This is a magically binding contract, so do not attempt to break it; if you do, you will lose your magic, and, by extension, your life.**

This contract was short, but it sure was impacting to the young Harry. Immediately he regretted his curiosity.

-"Mmm…m... married?" Harry stammered out.

-"I'm afraid so, Mr. Potter. The most I can offer right now is to mail the Greengrasses and to transport you to their manor, so that you can converse with them about this issue." The goblin smiled. The contract was rather nice in securing neutrality for the 'Hero' of the goblin race. His allegiance to a certain group could cause a necessity to intervene into the outside rumbles. Although the goblin race loved spilling blood, it enjoyed its money quite a bit more.

Harry sat in the chair right across from the goblin in deep thought.

The teleportation had left Harry nauseous and disoriented. He had literally done it once, and he already hated it. His head was spinning. As Harry exhaled and slowly came to his senses, he took notice of a giant marble building stationed on a massive plot of land. The Greengrass family manor - Harry said to himself. The Greengasses where a considerably wealthy and old family. However, Harry knew very little about their actual family apart from the fact that they had at least one daughter his age. The actual building was fitted with plenty of arches and columns, appearing incredibly beautiful amidst the amazing garden surrounding it. Harry wanted to look at this beauty more, but he was interrupted by the goblin, who barked at him.

-"Get the hell inside! I will not wait for you the whole goddamn day!"

Harry immediately hurried along the gravel path to the large oak doors gracing the entrance to the manor. He grew rather weary of knocking; behind these doors was a family who might be incredibly antagonistic towards him due to his current status as a fiance to their daughter. Although he was worried, Harry knew that they couldn't truly hurt him, as the goblins, if he didnt come back, would be all over this house.

Yet, he hesitated. When his knuckles finally hit the door, Harry genuinely felt unease. As the doors creaked, he was greeted with a creature that looked remotely similar to the goblins, although this creature was smaller, less dignified, and had eyes the size of dinner plates. The creature looked up at Harry, nodded, and invited him inside.

The inside of the manor was incredible. The marble contrasted with the dark oak furniture, bringing out the taste of the owner. Obviously the residents of this house were rather wealthy and thoughtful. Harry was brought out of his observations with a loud cough.

"Harry Potter. Ragnok came into contact with us. He informed us of the 'predicament' we currently find ourselves in." the voice belonged to a rather tall and a rather impressive, in structure, man. "I am the father of Daphne, and your soon-to-be father-in-law."

"This isn't my fault…"

"No, I suppose, it isn't."

The two of them stared at each other. The gazes were non-hostile; the two men simply looking over the other. "well, I reckon that I should invite you over. I do not blame you for the situation, but keep in mind that Daphne might. She believes that you are arrogant and fame-hungry. She believes that the fame went to your head."

Harry thought for a minute and nodded.

-"I can always change her mind, Mr. Greengrass." He smiled a knowing smile.

-"I suppose so." The man stated. "Now; would you mind keeping us company for dinner?"

The dinner went by smoothly. Mrs. Greengrass turned out to be kind and understanding. She was sympathetic towards his situation and assured him that she would attempt to reason with her daughter, who, on the other hand, was a nightmare. That little shit was constantly looking at him rather disdainfully, and incredibly arrogantly. Harry vowed to himself to teach her respect.

In the highlands of scotland, in a castle overlooking a giant lake, sat an elderly man with a beard stretching all the way to his knees. Although his body remained sitting in his office, his mind was focused on the disappearance of the young Harry Potter almost two years ago. This disappearance truly came as a surprise: there had not been any signs pointing to his departure before the incident. However, he wasn't worried. The old man knew that if Harry was alive, he would show up to Hogwarts: he had no other choice. Although many people believed that they had a choice in what school they attended, but the magical districts, created millenia ago by the grand wizards of old, prevented that, and required a certain amount of years to be spent in those specific schools. However, if Harry was dead, that would be a different story…

The man sat there; his fingers locked and completely emotionless. Suddenly, a book, one of the books in his private bookcase, began to wiggle. His eyes immediately darted towards it. This book was a register, if you will, which kept track of all registered students, as well as their relative status. The book suddenly tore itself from the shelf and flew towards the man. The man, also known as the headmaster of this school sat there looking at it, expecting something to happen. When nothing happened, he narrowed his eyes and mentally strained. Once again, nothing. The old man audibly sighed and reached for the book, opening it manually.

When he located exactly what the book was attempting to show him, his eyebrows suddenly found their way up all the way to his hairline. The statuses of both Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass had shifted into "engaged", which could only mean that Harry had found and opened the contract that had been previously sealed. Although it was relieving that he wasn't dead, the fact that Harry Potter was engaged meant that Harry could not be pressured into any alliance. This meant that he, the Headmaster, had to act a lot more subtly, and earn Harry's respect on his own. The headmaster sighed and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. This would be interesting, to say the least.


	8. Chapter 8

The first year of Hogwarts was fast approaching. At first, Harry had no idea as to why he even needed to go to Hogwarts, as the goblin's taught him everything; he was later convinced that building connections with influential heirs and receiving a standard education that was accepted by the ministry was essential. In the week before he needed to be out, he decided to stop procrastinating, and go out shopping for supplies. The shopping was rather uneventful, apart from him buying an owl and having a chance encounter with the Malfoy heir.

He was being outfitted in the shop of madam Malkins when the pale blond boy next to him spoke up.

-"Hogwarts, too?"

-"Yes," Harry was in a rather good mood. "Are there any other options?"

-"My dad wanted to put me in Durmstrang - a school somewhere in Belgium - for the dark arts taught there, but my mum insisted on Hogwarts."

-"Sounds interesting. " Harry genuinely didn't give a damn about the schools; all the education he needed came from the goblins.

-"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy drawled out. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

-"Why do you even need a broom if you can't use it?"

-"Bragging rights." - explained the boy.

-"Fair enough."

-"Do you play Quidditch?" - he questioned.

-"No. I watch it sometimes, but I don't play it."

-"Do you want to begin to do so in Hogwarts?"

-"We shall see."

A comfortable silence fell upon the duo. Harry did not mind the presence of this boy, and the boy was alright with Harry.

-"Where are your parents?" - Inquired the boy.

-"Dead."

-"Oh."

It was rather fun to watch Draco's face when he introduced himself. As soon as the boy got over the initial shock, Draco attempted to get political and sway him over, but Harry immediately, albeit politely, shut that attempt down. He wanted to be friends with Draco, maybe even political partners; however, this relationship would be on his own terms.

His thoughts eventually drifted over to his fiancee. He could understand why she didn't like him. She believed that Harry simply was a rich and famous kid who now believed that he owned the world. Daphne believed that to Harry, she was simply a trophy and a bragging point. He couldn't fault her for thinking that, but he knew that her attitude had to change; and he would be the one to do that exact thing.

It was the day of the train ride! Harry was genuinely excited for the adventure that awaited him this year: childlike excitement and wonder, if you will. He reached King's Cross quite early. The train wasn't going to be leaving for another couple of hours. The goblins had told him previously that the entrance to the platform that he wanted was literally the side of an archway in between the platforms 9 and 10 - something Harry was genuinely sceptical about. The wall of the archway looked completely solid; the brickwork on the arch was rather well laid. As Harry came close to the wall to examine it, he felt a familiar sensation: runes! He was even able to faintly tell that this branch of runes had something to do with space and time, as well as some compression runes, but apart from a blurry idea of the foundation, he was stupefied: a truly spectacular and complex design. As he reached his hand out to touch the wall, the wall reacted - it was almost as if the wall sucked him in - he realized that as he already was on the other side. He blinked. Then again. He was amazed. The transition between the two sides of the border was seamless: a true masterpiece of craftsmanship.

He shook his head and decided to explore this runic array later: after learning plenty more about such complex runes. The platform was empty, with the exception of a single shady-looking man. The man wore a long, dark brown trench coat that was obviously full of things, as it was comically bulging in certain places.

The man took notice of the boy and looked around in suspicion before beckoning him. Harry cautiously moved over to the figure. The figure cleared his throat and whispered:

-"Do you want to buy something? I usually only offer it to the older kids, but since you are here all alone, I can make an exception."

-"What do you sell?"

-"Magical drugs. The drugs make a fine profit around this place, as many of the upperclassmen love their drugs. Take this calling card, and visit me in Knockturn Alley if you want, Harry Potter. I sell plenty of fun things, if you catch my drift."

Harry was at first incredibly surprised at the stranger knowing who he was, but then realized that the scar was a rather dead giveaway. The card was simply a business card, a white piece of hard paper with an address and nothing else.

-"What do you have on you currently?" - Inquired Harry.

-"Mostly recreational stuff. However, I have a feeling that you have no need for such a thing. For you, I have something else. This drug is called "Lion's Heart:" it makes you braver for a period of time, and, dare I say it, reckless. Just be careful with the dosage - too much can force you to lose any self control."

-"What the hell am I supposed to use it for?"

-"I don't know. Everybody uses them in their own way. Some do it before presentations, some to ask out girls."

Harry's face grew a slight pink.

-"I'll take a bottle."

Harry thanked the vendor and left for the train. He felt that the red train was the true beginning of an adventure.

-"I am afraid that I must insist on you joining us, Harry Potter. You see, some families make better allies than others. I can assist you in finding out exactly who those families are." - Draco Malfoy, the boy that Harry had met in the clothing shop, was back. This time, however, the boy was followed around by two rather bulky companions.

-"I, on the other hand, am afraid that I can find friends for myself." - Refuted Harry.

-"You have not had enough experience in the magical world, Harry Potter. I can help you."

-"Do not worry about me, Mr. Malfoy. I will be just fine."

The two boys engaged in a rather intense staring match. One stared in quiet defiance, and the other in disbelief and slight frustration. This match dragged on for quite some time, with the goons becoming increasingly nervous. At last, Draco turned on his heel a little too quickly and walked out of the compartment, motioning his goons to follow him. Of course, the boy could not resist having the last words of the conversation.

-"You will regret this decision should you follow through with it. I will give you time to think about it."

The compartment door shut right behind the boys. Harry smirked to himself; the signature Malfoy cool had not manifested itself in Draco yet. The lack of cool most often was a result of poor occlumency, which was incredibly lucky for our scar-wielder. If Draco ever got out of control, Harry had a way of subduing him.

Now, finally, Harry had some time to himself. Right as he thought that, the door opened wide without a warning, and a bushy mop of hair poked itself inside of the compartment. She looked at Harry and authoritatively questioned:

-"Have you seen a toad? Neville has lost his toad."

-"No, and I do not want to see it!" - Harry was stupefied and rather miffed at the audacity of this bitch. -"Get the hell out of my compartment!"

-"Hmph. Rude." - The girl responded indignantly before closing the door behind her.

Harry Potter could tell that this was going to be an interesting year.


	9. Chapter 9

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry was not sure what exactly awaited him at Hogwarts, but he knew about the houses. The four houses made and named after the legendary quartet of people referred to as The Founders. Harry could not remember their names to save his life(because the goblin didn't make him memorize them), but he remembered some trivia about the houses themselves. Slytherin was a house supposedly for the ambitious, but since plenty of dark wizards hatched from there, it held the reputation of evil. Harry thought about this house, but realized that not only was he not all that ambitious, given a lack of an end goal, but he did not need the stigma of a bad guy. Gryffindor had the opposite reputation: it was viewed as the house of the brave heroes, the prospect of which really did not do anything to excite Harry. Ravenclaw, the first of the non-polarizing houses, was a place where those that valued pure intelligence and knowledge thrived. However, most of the time, the house was filled with those that feel themselves intellectually and morally superior to others. The last one of the houses was Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff was the house that Harry hoped to land in. This house had the reputation of mediocrity and general airheadedness, which meant that people would generally disregard and underestimate him; however, the thing that sold the house to him was the fact that the kitchens were, apparently, located right next to their dormitories.

Harry was brought out of his musings by the stomping sounds of nearby students preparing to exit the train. Harry exhaled, slightly nervous, before exiting his compartment and blending in with the crowd storming out of the train.

The train slowed right down before finally stopping. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air.

-"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A giant's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. -"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. They were surrounded by thick forestry which rendered everything dark. Nobody spoke much. The group made their way off the platform and into a small and serpentining trail into the woods. Everything was quiet, apart from a boy who kept sniffling on the path. Apart from that noise, everything was quiet. The woods around them felt surreal; they made for a thick curtain around the trail, covering them from the woods.

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a majestic castle with many turrets and towers. The sun nearing the horizon only made the castle more beautiful, painting it in a warm orange glow.

On the edge of the mirror smoothly lake were a myriad of boats. Harry separated himself from the wave of his fellow first years and made his way towards an empty boat in hopes of securing one for himself. However, this was in vain, as as soon as he sat in the boat it was immediately filled with three other students. The group consisted of a girl, a boy, and a familiar face. Harry groaned to himself. He was not ready to face Daphne; he knew that it would happen eventually, but god damn it, not now!

As the trio got comfortable in the boat, Daphne noticed our favorite protagonist. Her eyes slightly widened before she frowned and coldly stared at him. The girl right next to her noticed the tension and did not hesitate to ask.

-"You two know each other?"

-"We had a chance encounter, yes." - Daphne coldly responded. - "Would you like to explain how we met, Harry Potter?"

Harry saw through it immediately. This was partially bait, and partially a personality test. Daphne was expecting some kind of a brag out of him; something that could paint him in a bad light to all of the passengers of the boat, as well as fuel the supposedly rampant rumor mill of Hogwarts.

-"I had some private business to attend to with Mr. Greengrass. I would greatly appreciate it if you did not pry."

-"Oh. You are Harry Potter?"

He lifted his bangs and revealed the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. A silence descended onto the group. Harry could see Daphne's reaction to his response. One of her eyebrows was raised; she did not expect such a humble response. Out of the corner of his eye Harry caught an unhealthy gleam in the eye of the male passenger of the boat, but decided that it wasn't all that important.

"No more'n four to a boat!" A booming voice called out, seeing some skirmish around the boats.

-"Everyone in?" - shouted the giant, who had a boat to himself. - "Right then - FORWARD!"

The fleet of the little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the unnaturally smooth lake. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the large man as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a dark, moss covered tunnel into a small cavern that distantly resembled an harbor.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" - Questioned the giant, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried a boy in the crowd blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after the giant's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, dark oaken front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Harry could not see the boy's response, but apparently it was satisfactory, as the giant nodded and proceeded to knock three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was someone to watch out for.

-"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant.

-"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the scored stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already have arrived - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

-"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

-"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Raven…" - Harry zoned out, thinking about the incoming encounter with the entire school. He did not want to face the whole school, and he was steadily growing rather nervous.

-"While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." What Harry took away from this was that the points didn't matter.

-"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." Fuck. He genuinely did not want to face the whole school. He wasn't nervous because of the sorting procedure, as the goblins already told him everything about the hat, but he hated the idea of suddenly having a spotlight shined onto him.

She left the chamber. Harry looked around; everyone was nervous. No one was talking much except the girl that he had the displeasure of meeting earlier, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them in front of a crowd people.

Then something happened that made several people behind him scream.

-"What the -?" He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and nearly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. The ghost of somebody resembling a fat monk was saying:

-"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance "

-"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

-"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

-"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

-"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." Feeling a churning in his stomach, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. Harry had never even imagined such a captivating place. It was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.

At the top of the hall was another long table, perpendicular to the students' tables, where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard the annoying girl whisper,

-"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. He assumed runework, but for all he knew, this could be a self-sustaining charm. Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing. Harry immediately drowned out this horrendous noise. After this horrible screech, for some inexplicable reason, the whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Trying on the hat was easy, but he did wish that they could have tried it on without everyone watching. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

-"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!" A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause - "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. Harry quickly did the same as when the hat sung; he aggressively stopped listening. He was thinking of how to deal with Daphne, who had just been sorted into slytherin. His best bet of dealing with her would either be to make her more sympathetic towards him, or make her a lot more respectful. Again, his thoughts were interrupted, this time by the screech of the hat.

\- "Potter, Harry!" As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little roaring fires all over the hall. "Potter, did she say?" "The Harry Potter?" The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, there is some subtle thirst for power... So where shall I put you?" Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, "Hufflepuff, probably. They have kitchens nearby." He couldn't see it, but he could swear that the hat blinked in incredulity. "Hufflepuff?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you think so - better be HUFFLEPUFF!"


	10. Chapter 10

Harry was frustrated. The constant whispering and pointing was driving him nuts. Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. Goblins said that navigation throughout Hogwarts was simple. Bullshit. The stairways, the fake rooms, the fact that the map was completely and utterly useless, as one never knew the floor on which one stood on, all contributed to the overall confused and frustrated Harry Potter.

However, despite all the annoyances, he was rather excited. He was hurrying to his first subject of the day - class was apparently taught by a goblin, making Harry even more excited about this course. After a couple of bumps into fake doors - he finally found the right classroom. Behind the oaken door sat a couple of dark wooden tables, obviously crafted with skill and care. The room was warmly lit by the myriad of candles stationed all around the room. In contrast to the incredibly high ceilings of the main hall, this room had a rather low one. Although Harry did get horribly lost and lost quite a bit of time getting here, it was apparent that others were lost just as badly, if not worse, as he was the first in the classroom.

-"Good morning Mr. Potter! Ready for today's class?" - A voice squeaked out excitedly from the pile of books in the corner of the room.

-"Errr… Yes?" - Stuttered out of surprise Harry, but he quicky caught himself. - " You must be professor Flitwick. Nice to meet you, sir."

-"A pleasure to meet such a well mannered young man, like you, Mr. Potter."

They extended an arm to each other and shook it.

-"What subject are you most looking forward to, Mr. Potter?" curiously asked the goblin.

-"I love runes, Mr. Flitwick. When are we allowed to take a course on them?"

-"Oh?" - The professor seemed surprised. - "Well, the courses on runes aren't available for the first and second years, so I'm afraid that you are going to have to wait a couple of years for these courses. But…"

Harry clearly saw an opportunity to convince the professor to help him out. He knew that if the professor was proficient enough at occlumency to notice passive intrusion this plan would go south faster than the idea of secession. This 'conviction' had to be incredibly light as one didn't need to be a master to notice a figurative wave rushing onto oneself. Harry closed his eyes and instead of a sweeping wave, imagined a smooth and rather snuggly flow of kindness and compassion. This flow was intended to make the professor more leinent and willing to help out. For a second the professor stiffened, and Harry almost had a heart attack. However, the goblin simply shrugged and began speaking again.

-"... I could give you some of the runebooks that I have laying around… Unfortunately, they are rather advanced, so you might struggle quite a bit with them."

-"My deepest gratitude. I have a grasp on the basics, so I believe that I can handle it."

Mr. Flitwick nodded and went into his corner to search for the book. While he was searching, the first groups of students showed up.

-"Ah, there it is. Here, my own copy of 'Advanced Runework'. Please be careful with it, Mr. Potter. It was a gift from one of my dueling students."

-"Dueling students?" - This largely peaked Harry's interest.

-"I do not teach first years. Yes, I am a dueling teacher, as I have several trophies from the world championships that I have been in. If you want to be taught, come back next year, Mr. Potter.

Harry nodded and thanked the professor before taking his assigned seat.

The transfiguration class was interesting. Harry first labeled the teacher as someone to watch out for, and he was proven right. The professor, named Mrs. McGonagall, was strict, but fair.

-"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

A little too strict, in Harry's opinion, but he could manage. However, this class proved to be somewhat a dissapointment. Although they did get the time to practice the transfiguration, it wasn't before they spent around two hours taking notes on relatively useless information. He knew that this class would get progressively more interesting and impactful in the future, but currently it was incredibly boring and uneventful.

The Defence Against Dark Arts class was something peculiar. The teacher who led this course was named Quirinus Quirrell, who was an oddball. Harry was certain that there were plenty of eccentric personalities at Hogwarts, but he was something else. The man constantly tugged around a string of garlic and was constantly looking around himself, seemingly afraid of his own shadow. Harry did not know how this man could defend himself against monsters and dark spells when it was doubtful that he could defend himself against an obese hamster.

Potions were next. Harry thought that he would enjoy this class, given that options were very similar to runes in terms of preparation; however, any and all hopes for that were almost entirely squished as soon as the professor called attendance.

-"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

He stopped reading and turned his head to face Harry. His eyes were cold and hateful, although somewhat conflicted. However, one thing was certain - his eyes lacked any warmth.

-"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the students caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping the class silent without effort. - " I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

-"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

-"I am not sure, but I believe that it would make an incredibly powerful sleeping potion?" - Hesitantly responded Harry.

Snape seemed rather put off by Harry's knowledge of the subject, but continued his shots at Harry.

" Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

-"I do not know sir."

-"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." Snape grinned. It was a triumphant grin - yet one without as much hostility as it had before. It was as if he was satisfied with the fact that Harry was not slacking off.

-"I guess not, sir." - Politely answered Harry.

-"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

-"Aren't they the same?"

The professor faced Harry. His cold eyes stared deep into his soul. They lost quite an amount of hatred that they held prior, but remained quite cold.

-"I see that you have studied. Not perfectly, but well enough. Asphodel and wormwood do, in fact, make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" He turned around and barked at the class.

As Snape glided along the rows of shimmering cauldrons and stalked the students, he stopped right next to Harry. He did not move; he simply stood there, seemingly reminiscing about something. Finally, he opened his mouth.

-"I am glad you are not like your father."


	11. Chapter 11

The library of Hogwarts was a beautiful and tranquil place. The columns of books stretched all the way to the to the towering ceilings of the library. The silence, despite the loads of people present was omnipresent and fascinating. He did not require the books in there for the moment, it was simply a lot quieter than the buzzing Hufflepuff homeroom. He had a plan; he was working in his airsoft pistol, the 1911. Although he had, with the help of Griphook, modified the gun so that it could propel the projectiles at a great velocity, the projectile itself was still harmless; it was a small plastic ball, after all. This ball lacked a punch; a finisher, if you will. The best case scenario was that the bullet shoot right through the target; however, even in this case, the bullet simply would go through and be dangerous, but nowhere near lethal. This best case result was achieved only with the target being light and the material being sparse; however, should the material be denser than cardboard, the projectile would hit, and then would simply bounce right off. Harry already knew how to make it so that the bullet would go through things much easier: he simply needed to rune the projectile with the reverse rune of the one that is often used on suitcases to make them lighter.

Harry already had the runic array that would trigger shortly after an impact by breaking the protective sequence and allowing stored energy to go directly into the finisher, triggering it. The only problem at this stage was the fact that he had no actual finisher; this is where the book lended to him by professor Flitwick came into play - he would, hopefully, find something that he could use in there.

Harry scrolled through the 'Advanced Runework' in attempts to find anything of value for this finisher of his. Harry was amazed at the amount of content throughout the tome. There were plenty of elemental, Newtonian, time, and space manipulation runes, as well as some miscellaneous runes for simple gags and jokes. Currently he was in favor of using something simple, like an explosion, but that could change.

-"Potter!" Yelled a familiar voice. Harry turned his head and saw a group of slytherins approach him. The group was quite literally the exact same people that sat with him in the boat. Daphne again, huh.

-"Do you mind if we sit next to you? All the other tables are taken." - Harry was too lazy and too polite to walk around the whole library to check the validity of that statement, so he simply invited them to sit. The girl that was talking thanked him, and they sat down quietly, whipping out their textbooks.

-"What do you want from me?"

-"What gives you the impression that we want something from you?"

Harry said nothing, choosing to rather to envelop himself in his book.

-"I am Tracy Davis."

Harry simply nodded. He was rather curious as to the reasoning behind their arrival, but for all he knew, this might as well have truly been an accident.

-"Can you crush wormwood with an iron masher?" - Casually asked Davis, engrossed in her homework.

-"No, the iron will oxidise the plant, making it incredibly volatile." - Casually responded Harry. The pattern of them asking for help and just generally talking about random things continued until they were all done.

-"Thank you, Harry Potter. You are great company. I hope that we can perhaps continue this study group in the future."

-"Me too." - Wholeheartedly agreed Harry. He was happy to finally receive some wholesome human interaction. Harry picked up his book and prepared to leave, but Daphne stood up:

-"Potter, I would like a word with you in private."

-"Lovebirds?" - Giggled Tracy. Harry was almost unphased, but if one looked hard enough, one would find a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Daphne had a similar reaction, albeit with a more serious face. She motioned Tracy to get the hell out of the library before she cornered Harry.

-"I do not know what you are trying to achieve with these dangerous and unstable runes, that you are searching for in your book, but I will be watching you, Potter. I will make sure that you behave."

The thing that Harry needed the least right now was an annoying little shit following his every move. He didn't think that he could completely dissuade her from following him, but it would be nice to get her a tiny bit intimidated. He concentrated; a familiar wave took shape in his mind. This time, the wave was a potent mix of fear - to 'dissuade' her - and awe - to keep her from being incredibly terrified and antagonistic against him in the future. As he sent the wave directly onto her, he began speaking.

-"Do not attempt to control me. I know what I am doing, Greengrass." - As he towered over her, the wave smashed full speed onto her consciousness. He peered over into her glimmering blue eyes and saw a mix of wild astonishment, aspiration and a healthy dose of fear. -"I will see you on our next group meeting, Greengrass."

He turned around and walked off, leaving a flustered Daphne behind him.

During the study session he managed to concentrate enough to pick out exactly what he wanted for the big finisher in his plastic airsoft pellets. He settled on elemental magics, specifically on the wind power - with this specific rune, when activated, being able to literally shred anything within a half a meter diameter. Once Harry would finish runing the prototype pellet, in theory, it would work something like this: The gun shoots the pellet out with incredible momentum, enhanced with a weight rune. After the bullet leaves the barrel, the bullet would travel directly to the target. Due to the enhanced momentum of the pellet, the round should go through almost anything. Upon heavy impact, the shot will enter the target. Upon entering the target, the protective array will be broken, allowing the energy stored within to funnel into the wind rune, shredding everything in its diameter. The idea was genius, and he had the the goblins to thank for the assistance with the development of this incredible array.


	12. Chapter 12

/Rating bumped to M because of violence.

/I am not proud of this chapter, but I genuinely do not want to work on this chapter anymore.

Harry enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, with his routine slowly becoming familiar and comfortable. He enjoyed his regular contact with his newfound study group; however, he was getting slightly suspicious over the fourth member of their clique, Blaize Zabini. The Slytherin was showing some signs of obsessive behaviour, but the signs were negligible, so Harry largely did not mind it.

Harry awoke to an interesting sight: the whole school was decorated with pumpkins. The Great Hall was outfitted with magnificent orange and black banners, and the promise of a delicious dinner feast hovered over everybody. But the feast was not the only thing hovering over the students in the great hall - the candles that usually floated above the students were replaced by giant carved pumpkins.

The day went by smoothly; even Snape, the always gloomy bat of the dungeons was surprisingly cheerful and didn't deduct too many points from anyone. The only thing that slightly soured Harry's mood was the news that the annoying girl was reduced to tears by somebody who got fed up with her. Harry thought that it must have been something rather harsh that sent her to the bathroom to cry for the whole day.

She did not show up for the feast. Harry was getting slightly concerned: somebody must have genuinely hurt her if she had locked herself up in the bathroom for that long. However, Harry decided to instead focus on the food; after all, it was none of his business. The selection of foods was astounding; from steamed potatoes to the most exquisite desserts, from the piles of chickens to the more-overbearing-than-ever pumpkin juice. Harry was in the process of loading his plate with food, when, suddenly, this relatively pleasant banquet was rudely interrupted by the slamming of the Hall doors.

The doors of The Great Hall were suddenly flung open, revealing a disheveled and terrified professor Quirrell. The man ran across the hall towards the headmaster's table, but stopped half way and screamed on top of his lungs:

-"A TROLL HAS GOTTEN INTO THE SCHOOL! Just thought you ought to know..." he fell limply onto the floor.

Immediately as he collapsed, the Hall went quiet. The silence seemed to stretch for a eternity, deafening with its quiet.

Suddenly, much like an eardrum under pressure, the tension snapped. The Hall was filled with yelling, and even some sobs could be heard throughout. Thankfully, Dumbledore was aware of the situation and prevented further chaos by promptly taking control.

-"Students! You will be escorted to your dormitories by the prefects - follow them, and you will be safe."

As the students calmed down to an acceptable degree - that is, past the point that they were pissing their pants - they assembled behind the prefects.

Harry was just about to follow suit, but he suddenly stopped. The Girl! She was still stuck in the bathroom! Harry thought it over; after all, what's the worst thing that could happen? The teachers should be able to stop the troll soon, right?

The boy decided to leave the Great Hall with his Hufflepuffs. However, as he was just about to leave the Hall, his conscience sprung up and demanded action. His insides churned with a horrible feeling.

Daphne was only slightly worried. Troll? In the castle? Nothing that the professors couldn't deal with, right? Right? She was readying to leave with her fellow housemates, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry slip outside of the Hall. She suspiciously narrowed her eyes, looked around, and quietly followed the boy.

Harry was walking quickly, but not running: he did not want to make too much noise. All he wanted to do was to warn the girl and to get the hell back into his dorm. The corridors were empty, with the echoing of his steps being the only companion of his on this mission.

The door to the girls bathroom was right in front of him. It was an ordinary wooden door. There was nothing suspicious, and that in itself, was suspicious. The only thing that was apart from the ordinary was the smell. It was an incredibly foul stench that permeated throughout the corridor. Unable to bear with the smell and wanting it to stop, he burst into the door in order to get the girl, and immediately froze right past the doorway.

The disgusting smell persisted in the bathroom. The bathroom was coated in red. The crimson on the walls slowly dripped down, disturbing the still air with quiet drips. On the floor, covered in scarlet someone lay. Harry initially thought that it was simply a short person, perhaps a goblin; however, as Harry looked closer, a grim realization struck him. This was a body. A body without a head. In the place were a head should have been was a stump. Out of the stump poked out bloody leftovers of a shattered spine.

Harry felt sick. This sight along with the pungent smell made him nauseous. The sight and the mix of smells really did their work on the young Harry.

Although most of the blood was still spurting out of the body, there was a large red stain on the wall. This stain was chunky. As Harry looked into it, he saw pieces of long and curly brown hair. Immediately he recognized the corpse. The girl! He was too slow... He looked at the wall one more time, attempting to understand what happened. Then, he got it. The mush on the wall was created by something crushing her head against the wall like a ripe watermelon. It must have been a tremendous force that splattered the girl's brains all over the room.

Harry finally tore his gaze from the horrendous scene. On the other side of the room sat a mountain. The Troll. It sat in the corner, clutching a bloody club. Harry was hoping that the Troll didn't see him, but that was a silly presumption, as Harry basically broke through the door. The creature already stood up, let out a roar, wound up, and threw his club at him. Fortunately for Harry, he managed to avoid the club. The massive stick flew past him, smashing into the doorway. Harry immediately sprinted back in hopes of getting the hell out of the room. The door was broken shut; it wouldn't budge. As the Troll rose up, Harry realized that he only had one way of protecting his hide: his prototype gun that he had never tested before.

He reached his hand into his right pocket, finding his gun exactly where he left it. The giant troll was closing in; he raised his fist to smush Harry into pulp. His fist made a quick decent onto Harry, and Harry shot.

The shot hit its mark. The ball first produced a satisfying sequencing noise, before a loud rumbling noise resembling a tornado tore through the relative quiet of the bathroom. A massive spherical hole appeared in his torso, and the Troll fumbled before falling.

Harry was incredibly relieved. He was ready to begin a celebration, but the fist that the Troll raised finished its descent. The dirty and heavy fist crashed down along with the body, crushing Harry's left arm into numerous pieces and pinning him under the massive weight. He cried out in pain, tears making their way down Harry's pain-ridden face. The pain was immeasurable. The last thing that he heard was his name being called out before his surroundings went black.


	13. Chapter 13

/A little shorter than usual, but I just don't want to cram anything into this chapter, as I feel that this is a good length for it.

Harry awoke from the darkness panting and scared. The surroundings were unfamiliar to the boy: he lay on something akin to a hospital bed in an unnaturally light room. On the foot of his long bed sat an old man. Dumbledore. The famous headmaster of Hogwarts, the vanquisher of Grindelwald, and the frequent refuser of the title of Minister of Magic.

By the time Harry noticed the old man, Dumbledore had already realized that Harry had awoken. He looked at the boy and gently asked:

-"How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. His gaze was unfocused and lost. Dumbledore looked at the boy, patiently waiting for him to break the silence. The boy, however, continued his prolonged stare.

The old man stood up in order to depart and leave Harry alone to his thoughts. When Dumbledore was halfway across the room, Harry broke the silence.

-"I could have saved her…" - he whispered - "If only I hadn't hesitated with my decision to go for her…"

Dumbledore turned around, and calmly interjected.

-"It isn't your fault, my boy. I am surprised you were able to even harm the monster, let alone kill him. In reality, it is truly my own fault for allowing the Troll to storm into my school and kill a student."

Harry's face lightened, and it seemed that the guilt fell off his shoulders; however, this relief was temporary. His shoulders slumped, and he whispered:

-"But I COULD have… if only I didn't hang back, she'd live…"

Dumbledore said nothing. His half spectacles lost their glimmer, and his face morphed into sadness.

-"I hope that you do not beat yourself over it, my boy. Nobody could have predicted that such a thing would happen. In the meantime, there is a fellow student that wanted to see you, Harry."

-"A student? Who?" - Harry questioned. He wasn't close to anybody, and he didn't see how anybody could be worried enough for him to visit.

-"You shall see for yourself." With that, the old man left the room, closing the doors behind him.

Harry was left in brief loneliness before the doors opened again, revealing a young girl.

-"Daphne…" - the boy whispered. - "What do you want?"

-"I saw your fight…" -she appeared somber-"I stood behind the cracked door, and I saw most of it…"

-"You did?"

-"Yes, Harry…" - she breathed out. -"Why?"

-"I just wanted to warn her… She didn't know about the Troll…"

A silence descended on the duo; only the heavy breathing of a tired and distraught Harry occasionally broke the quiet.

-"You know… I was wrong about you." - the girl stated. - "I believed that you were a spoiled child who grew up with his relatives basking in his glory. However, now I see that you aren't simply an arrogant piece of shit, but…" - Daphne lowered her eyes. - "... a decent human being."

At this point, the resident nurse, madam Pomfrey, burst into the room.

-"Hey! HEY! The kid needs his rest! He just awoke from a temporary coma! He can not handle too much excitement, so leave him alone!"

Daphne quickly and extensively apologized and made her way out of the door.

Madam Pomfrey made a long exhale.

-"I have some bad news for you, Harry. I usually abstain from telling my patients bad news until I know they will be able to handle it, but with you, I can not do that, as you can discover your condition rather easily, and possibly inflict worse physiological damage onto yourself. You see, when the Troll fell on your arm - Dumbledore told me of the incident - he completely crushed it. I was able to repair the bone, but unfortunately, the muscle is in terrible shape. Modern magics have no way of fixing it." - Pomfrey somberly spoke.

Harry felt numb. She was joking, right? There was nothing wrong with him! He attempted to bring his left hand up, to show that he was alright, but it wouldn't budge.

-"You will never be able to use your left hand."

-"You… are joking, right?" - harry numbly spoke.

-"I am afraid that I am dead serious, Mr. Potter…"

No, no, no, NO! There is no way that was possible! He focused on his left hand, he tried to get it to move. He didn't care how much, he just wanted to prove her wrong - that he COULD move his hand! But, alas, it never moved. His hand stayed exactly where it was.

-"Please…" - Harry whispered. He was dreaming, right?! He pinched his hand, but nothing happened. No! He simply HAD to be dreaming! All he needed to do was to hurt himself, and he would snap out of this horrendous nightmare! He picked up his limp arm with the working one, and began hitting it on anything near his desk: the bedside, the nightstand,..

-" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

Suddenly Harry was frozen. He couldn't move anything but his eyes. He began attempting to move them sporadically, as if that would help him break free if the spell. Harry was panicking. He just needed to hit himself more! More! Just a little bit more, and he would be free from this nightmare!

-"Harry Potter!" - the nurse yelled - "There is no point in freaking out! You will only hurt yourself even more!"

The boy lay there, gradually coming down from his high. A tear escaped his eye out of his sheer helplessness.

The nurse's face was tense, and her eyes were misty; sometimes she really hated her job.


	14. Chapter 14

/Author's note

/I'm sorry for the depressing chapters; I promise that I will relax with those.

Harry lay there, in his dormitory, reminiscing about what had happened. He had lost his hand in an effort to save a girl that he ultimately could not save. Nevertheless, he did not regret it, and would do so again in a heartbeat. Although his philosophy was that of non involvement, his heroism quite often shined through his facade of neutrality.

He was, however, genuinely distraught about his arm, and was looking for some solutions. He didn't want anybody to notice that he lost the ability to use his arm; he did not want pity. Madam Pomfrey told him that she was the only one who knew of this affliction, and not even Dumbledore knew of the permanent damage to his arm. Although he was crippled for the moment, he was resolute on finding a way to re-animate his currently non functional arm.

He was going to write to the goblins in order to figure out what he could do. He already deduced on his own that if one can't move an object physically, one can employ the wonders of Magic to help them out. He knew that using any charm or spell would not make for a permanent solution, and would require painstaking re-application every time it would wear out. He decided to question the goblins about the possible application of runes for the task.

Harry got up from his bed, and, determined to see himself get over his predicament, sat at his desk, got out a piece of parchment and began to write.

" _Dear Friend Griphook,_

 _I write with the desire to learn more about the art of permanent object manipulation. I have some ideas on the subject, and, according to my hypothesis, runes are the only thing that would allow for such a feat, as charms and the like would simply wear out after some time. It would bring me great pleasure if you would assist me with finding a runic array that would allow for this._

 _Sincerely, Harry Potter._ "

Harry hated writing in such a formal manner, but Griphook, the bank-raised goblin insisted that perfect grammar and diction were necessary in writing letters of any kind.

He stood up from his chair and proceeded to the owlery to send the letter. On his way there he was careful to conceal his arm from the curious onlookers who constantly sent out glances in his direction. From the way they looked at him, he was getting suspicious that the Hogwarts rumor mill picked up some information regarding his condition.

-"Harry! HARRY!" - a feminine voice called out from right behind him.

Harry immediately turned around, and the girl smashed her forehead directly into his own. The force of the impact sent the two flying I the opposite directions across the Hall.

The two sat on their bottoms, rubbing their hurt foreheads.

-"What did you want from me?" - rather spitefuly questioned Harry.

-"Oh… I'm sorry… I just wanted to ask you something. In private, of course."

Harry groaned. Daphne was obviously trained in the aristocratic art of not revealing information in front of anybody; however, she sure as hell just gave the rumor mill things to talk about for the next week.

-"Ugh… Alright, follow me to the owlery; I have some things to do in there."

The girl acquiescently followed him by his side. Daphne walking by his side reminded him of his powers over emotions, but he quickly forgot about that as he was not at all in the mood to focus on anything substantial.

-"Once again, I ask - What do you want from me?"

-"Well… I feel guilty for being mean to you beforehand; I want to make it up to you by inviting you to the quidditch match today…"

-"Today?" - Harry interrupted her - "How long was I out?"

-"Did you not ask anyone beforehand?"

-"No, not really; so, how long was I blacked out?"

-"A couple of days at least. Dumbledore somehow knew when you would wake up, and gave the the heads up."

-"Did he give it to anybody else?"

-"I asked Tracey, and to my knowledge, nobody else had got the heads up."

-"Peculiar…" - Harry was about to begin speculating on what this new information that he had been presented with could mean, but he was not given the chance to do so because Daphne chimed back in:

-"So what do you say about quidditch?"

Harry looked at her and simply nodded as the two of them made their way to the owlery.

The breezy air of autumn blew across the outside. The mountains around the castle turned a dull gray. Harry had never gone outside of the castle, so this cold exterior took him by surprise. Harry and Daphne went out into the field; today's game was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, the two rival and rather competent teams. Maybe this game could inspire him to join the Hufflepuffs next year.

As he was thinking of the game, he suddenly remembered the girl. Hermione. Somebody told him her name after she kicked the bucket. The question that suddenly appeared at the forefront of his mind was how the hell did the school move on so quickly from such a disaster?

There was no way that Hogwarts, a prestigious school could just shrug off a death of a student.

He decided for himself to investigate this, but later. Currently, he was at a game, and he was planning to enjoy every second of it.

As the game started, Harry immediately tuned out the annoying commentator who couldn't help but catcall the gryffindor chasers. Other than that, the game was marvelous. The chasers of both teams played off each other, and truly shined, as they have been working together for numerous years. The goalies were solid, and the slytherin seeker was too. The same could not be said about the fresh Gryffindor seeker, who had just joined the team and fumbled quite a bit, obviously not very comfortable playing as the seeker. However, the players that truly stood out for Harry were the beaters. It was obvious that these players dictated the pace of the whole match. They had the teamwork, the precision, and the skill to eliminate the highest of threats, and Harry felt that this was the role that, if mastered, had almost limitless potential. Harry envisioned himself as the one controlling the field; suppressing the enemy; enabling combos. In essence, this position controlled the game, and he wanted it.

Harry was so engrossed in the game, that he didn't notice the fact that Daphne, in all her dignity, and with the straight, aristocratic face stood a lot closer to him than she initially started at. Although Harry took no notice of this, some certainly had, as if one looked, they would see plenty of curious, plenty of intrigued, plenty of jealous glances at the pair. It was evident that Daphne was cursed with constantly fueling the rumor mill.


End file.
